Chapter Eleven Noah #2
A low whistle has me turning on my heel.
Ezra stands just inside the door, his arms crossed over his chest. “Damn. This held up better than I expected.”
“Yeah, me too. Guess they really don’t make them like they used to.”
He huffs out a laugh, something he doesn’t do often. “There is a big tree down on the drive up, though. You can squeeze around it with some finesse, but we’ll need to figure out what to do with it.”
I sigh. “All right. I’ll add it to the list.” I flick my chin his way. “What are you doing here so early anyway?”
“Same thing as you: inspecting the damage.” He takes a step, then winces. “And I couldn’t sleep with this fucking hip.”
He says that last part through gritted teeth.
My initial reaction is to feel bad for him, but Ezra doesn’t want my pity. Drastic weather changes tend to irritate his joints, making his hip hurt worse. I’m not surprised he wasn’t able to sleep either.
“Since we’re both up, we might as well take advantage of it. I’ll get started on the debris, and you do something with the tree?”
“Are you sure?” I ask him, not missing the pinch to his lips as he takes another step.
He shoots me a look, and I hold my hands up.
“Yeah, sorry,” I say. “You’re sure.”
“Damn right I am. Besides, moving is good for me. Sitting still just makes it worse. It’ll work itself out eventually.”
It’ll work itself out eventually.
Maybe that’s what I need to tell myself regarding Odette.
She’ll text eventually. Or stop by. Either way, the situation will sort itself out.
Besides, it’s not like she can avoid me forever, right? We’re working on the farm together. She wants to be here to save her business. She’d never abandon her dream.
Ezra and I spend the morning working on cleanup. By the time we open the cidery, it’s not perfect, but it’s a hell of a lot better. Plus, using the chain saw to break up the tree was fairly therapeutic, and I’ve barely thought about last night all day.
People come and go all morning, some even stopping to help with the cleanup because that’s just how Port Harbor is, and we have roughly twenty customers in the taproom by two o’clock when Izzy waltzes through the doors.
I’m surprised to find Craig trailing behind her.
I know he’s been working a lot lately and we haven’t seen him around much.
“Noah!” he calls with a grin. “Good to see you, brother.”
Brother.
He’s taken to calling me that since they got engaged. I can’t say I’m a fan of it, but it always makes Izzy giggle, so I allow it.
“Hey, Craig,” I say, setting aside the plans I’m drawing up for the new coop. If I’m going to have to rebuild the thing, I’m doing it right, and I’m giving the girls a bit more space. With any hope, I can make it Tootsie-proof too. “How you been?”
“Busy.” He sighs, slinging himself onto a barstool. “Working long hours a lot lately.”
Izzy looks surprised by this. “I thought you were going to the gym after work?”
“Yeah, babe. That’s what I mean. The gym is work, too, you know. How else do you think I get these muscles?” He kisses her cheek, and she giggles. She’s always doing that with him.
As anti-marriage as I am, I’m glad my sister is happy. Nobody deserves it like she does.
“I hear you on the long hours.”
“I’m sure you do with working so hard on the farm,” Craig says. “It looks great. We really appreciate everything you’re doing for the wedding.”
I shrug. “It’s no big deal.”
I mean, yeah, I’m busting my ass making this place everything my sister could ever want, all while trying to run a business, a farm, possibly buy an ice rink, and have some semblance of a personal life, but whatever.
It’ll all be worth it to see my sister smiling.
And for Odette too.
I swallow just thinking of her, then try to push her out of my mind just as quickly as she’s entered it. The last thing I need to be doing is thinking of her in front of my sister. I worry she’ll be able to read my thoughts, and they certainly won’t be PG.
I’m not ready to divulge what happened between me and her best friend just yet, especially since I don’t even know what it meant. Or if it meant anything at all.
“Can I get you guys something to drink?” I ask.
That’s right, Noah. Work. Something to distract yourself.
“Oh, surprise me,” Craig says. “I’m not picky.”
It’s one of my least favorite things customers do. I don’t want to surprise them, because what if what they like isn’t what I give them?
But I don’t push it.
“Anything for you, little sister?”
“Water, please.”
“She’s my designated driver.” Craig grins at her. “That was the deal if I came to this thing.”
“What thing?” I ask as I turn around, grabbing a pint of Neutral Zone since it’s our best seller, then a bottle of water for Izzy.
“Wedding planning.”
Wedding planning? Does that mean she’ll be here too?
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I can’t have her here. Not today. Not after last night.
I—
“Hey, you’re here already!”
The glass I’m holding slips right from my grasp. I scramble to catch it, the other pints on the counter clinking together in the chaos.
“You okay, Bubs?” Izzy asks, not missing the commotion.
“Mm-hmm,” I say over my shoulder.
I’m not ready to turn around. I know when I do, I’m going to see her. The woman who I know is so fucking sweet. The one I can still taste on my lips.
Odette.
“Bubs.” Craig laughs. “Still not used to hearing the Noah Stevens being called bubs.”
“Better than being nicknamed after a dog.”
I turn around for the first time, and the blue in her eyes nearly knocks me on my ass.
And so does how nonchalant she appears. How unaffected she looks.
Where are the dark circles under her eyes? Or the apprehension in her gaze? Why does she look so goddamn beautiful when I’m a fucking wreck?
“Ready to get started?” she asks Craig and Izzy.
My sister claps excitedly. Craig, not so much.
He taps the bar twice. “Wish me luck, brother.”
“Good luck,” I tell him, but I can’t help but think back to my own wedding and the lack of involvement I had in planning it. I wish I could have helped more, but Chelsea wanted to take control.
That should have been a sure sign of what would come, but I ignored it.
They make their way through the taproom, and I pretend like I’m not watching Odette’s hips sway the whole way there.
She looks gorgeous today, but that’s no surprise. Her dark hair is curled expertly, hanging loose around her shoulders. She’s wearing a tight-as-hell black skirt. Add in the hot-pink heels she’s rocking, and fuck, she’s doing things to me she really shouldn’t be.
It takes everything I have to drag my eyes away from her as she and Izzy put their heads together, looking over the gigantic binder she’s pulled out of her bag.
They’re at one of the longer tables near the back, the same one I walked in on Odette moving last week.
She’d disappeared to use the bathroom, and when she was gone way longer than necessary, I went searching for her to find her messing around in here.
She claimed she had to rearrange things for “aesthetics.” We argued for five minutes on that until I eventually walked away and let her do whatever she wanted.
I hate admitting it, but I do like the new layout.
In fact, I’ve liked everything she’s done in the taproom so far, from moving the tables and chairs around to redoing the decor on the walls to replacing our old board games without my permission.
It’s small stuff, but it’s already making a difference with our customers.
“Worked the numbers again.” Ezra walks into the bar from the back office with his laptop, setting it down in front of me. “Don’t know what you’re doing, but we’re actually under budget on the barn.”
“I’m not done with it yet.”
“I know, but keep that up, and we might stay that way.”
He closes the laptop, rests his back against the bar.
“They working on the wedding?”
“Yep,” I say, still not looking away from Odette. Even though I should, I can’t seem to make myself do so.
Or want to.
As if she can feel my stare, she looks over at me, and our eyes connect.
I lose my breath. It’s like someone has reached right into my chest and has wrapped their fist around my lungs, squeezing so damn tight that I can’t breathe even if I tried.
And damn, do I try. Yet nothing happens until Odette looks away, her attention falling back to Izzy.
I release the trapped breath shakily, and beside me, Ezra grunts.
“What?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing, man.”
But the smirk on his lips doesn’t say nothing. It says a lot.
And I don’t know why I do it, but I find myself inching closer to him and saying, “We kissed.”
Ezra doesn’t react. Not a brow quirk or slackened jaw. Not even a twitch.
Did he hear me?
“We kissed,” I whisper again, my eyes darting around to make sure nobody is paying attention. They aren’t. Everyone is lost in their own conversations. “As in me and Odette. Last night.”
“I heard you the first time,” he says. “I’m just trying to wrap my head around why the fuck you thought that was a good idea.”
I exhale heavily, running a hand through my hair that I did absolutely nothing with this morning. “Fuck, I don’t know. I have no clue. I just . . . I did it.”
“I know.”
“What?”
“I know why.”
“Yeah?” I huff. “Then tell me, oh wise one, why I fucking kissed my little sister’s best friend?”
“Because you wanted to.”
He says it so simply, like it’s the only possible answer.
And he’s right. I did do it because I wanted to, but I shouldn’t want it. I shouldn’t want her.
“I’m taking it Izzy doesn’t know?”
“Not a clue.” And I plan to keep it that way until I can figure out just what it meant.
He nods. “And Odette?”
“What about her?”
“How’s she feeling about it?”
I don’t know why, but I didn’t expect Ezra to care about how Odette feels about it.
He’s not usually that kind of guy. Not that he’s a dick—I would never partner with someone who truly is—but he’s also not invested in personal matters.
He doesn’t like to talk about his life outside of work, which I appreciate about him.
“I don’t know. She won’t talk to me.”
“Have you tried?”
“I texted her last night. She said she needed time.”
“Then give it to her.”
“I know. I know I need to. I’m just . . .
fuck, man. I feel like I’m stuck on an endless merry-go-round.
Like I’m being peeled out of my skin or some other weird sci-fi shit like that.
I’m just . . . I don’t know. I don’t usually want to talk about my feelings and shit, but I need to know what she’s thinking.
She’s not just some random person. She’s . . . she’s . . . Odette.”
He tips his head at me, watching me closely. Too closely. So much that it makes me feel like I’m naked, standing on a stage, and everyone is watching.
“What?”
“Nothing, man.”
Except this time, when he says it, I don’t give him any more ammo than he already has.
I keep my mouth closed and my head down. And I definitely don’t try to talk to Odette, no matter how badly I want to.
She wanted space, and I’m going to give it to her.
Even if it does kill me in the process.